The Red Letter
by x-hail.ee
Summary: Yuffie: a top assassin. Latest target: one 'Leon' Leonhart. Easy, right? But Yuffie wasn’t counting on having to take along a squadron of the most dysfunctional males she’d ever met...
1. The Letter

**x---. ****The Red Letter.**

_--I had written him a letter, for want of better knowledge…  
AB Patterson, 'Clancy of the Overflow'_

**Yuffie**: a top assassin. Latest target: one Squall Leonhart. Easy… But Yuffie wasn't counting on having to take along a squadron of the most dysfunctional males she'd ever met…

**Chapter 1: The Letter**

* * *

In a house, there lived a man. Godo Kisaragi. Many feared him, and when his name was spoken, even grown men broke down and cried.

…Please note the past tense though. _Lived. Feared. Was._

Godo, the most ghastly assassin in all the worlds, was dead.

Or, should it be, is dead?

Anyway. In his place, one person alone had risen to the challenge. A girl. A small girl. A small girl with a materia fetish. A small girl with a giant shuriken and a materia fetish. A small girl –

Well, you get the picture.

The girl's name was Yuffie. When her name was spoken, grown men broke down and cried again.

Most of the time, it was with laughter.

Nevertheless, this girl was still an accomplished killer, and it should be noted that she deserved her father's place as prime assassin – she worked very hard to get where she was, after all.

Still, there was something about her… something that some rude people just could not take seriously.

When Yuffie Kisaragi heard of this outrage, she flew into a blind fury, and the next night, the grown men who had broken down and cried with laughter at the hearing of her name had all vanished. In place of each of their bodies was a small toy – a moogle plushie, limited edition, with a nose that flashes when you press it just so – and a note:

_All your bases are belong to us._

Needless to say, Yuffie loved practical jokes, and no one laughed at her openly after that.

She very soon rose to be what was supposed to be the greatest and most eccentric ninja assassin the worlds had ever seen. The imprisonment of Jafar? That was her. Oogie-Boogie's death _and _resurrection, and his consequential second death? Maleficent ain't got _nothin' _on Yuffie. The Huns, Guard Armor, the thousand Heartless… well, you get the picture, even though some snot-nosed little kid named Sora or something tried to take her credit. Rather grumpily, she acquiesced to his idea, only because she realized it was best for a ninja such as herself to remain in the shadows. Masterminding everything from behind. A 'shadow king', if you will.

…The great ninja Yuffie rather liked the sound of that, although she found it slightly sexist. But, she couldn't complain, as it was her idea in the first place.

But back to the plot. The narrator digresses.

**-x-x-x-**

There is a saying that goes, when you clap your hands, a fairy dies.

This has nothing to do whatsoever with the central theme except that Yuffie rather enjoyed clapping her hands, especially on a daily basis, and particularly enjoyed doing it whenever she visited the pirate ship of Captain Hook for more bombs and the like to use in her next little escapade. Killing Hook had been quite a profitable little maneuver; some little boy named Pan had given her a few caskets full of mermaid gold so he didn't feel the guilt himself, and she now had unlimited access to Hook's coffers within the ship and on Skull Island. Until they ran out, of course. But that would have required a very trigger-happy Yuffie in need of ammo. And that could never happen, right?

…Right.

Anyways. So, Yuffie had just returned from one such jaunt to the ship, and could now be found striding into her main hall of her personal castle of Hollow Bastion, slinky black motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm (although what she could have required a motorcycle helmet for in the first place was rather debatable), and decked all in black as befits a sexy ninja (this fact is apparently open for discussion on various web forums too).

A small monkey, courtesy of one of her many raids on Agrabah, bounded up to her, chittering excitedly.

"Abu… what?" Yuffie bent down to listen to its sounds.

Against the wall, three of her guards looked at each other and sighed.

Noting that his new mistress could not make head or tail of what he was saying, Abu pulled out a letter and handed it with considerable difficulty considering the large choke chain around his scrawny little neck that prevented any escape to Yuffie, who took it gleefully.

The envelope was white, but the letter inside was red – the author would like to kindly take this opportunity to point out that this is where the origin of the title of this work is from. And when Yuffie unfolded this letter, her eyes widened and her gasp was a very well-done imitation of various heroines in action movies when they are just about to be killed or rescued.

Then, without a word, she turned and ran, and then turned and ran the other way, up the main stairs and then to the left, a few metres away to where she came to a door which opened on to a flight of dark thin winding stairs, which she bolted up three at a time, and then out into another smaller hall which she duly ran down. And so this continued until she finally opened one door in particular, and zipped inside.

"Aury!!" Was her delighted yell as she pounced upon her favourite advisor.

"Arrgh," was his unintelligible and muffled response as the ninja's arms wrapped around his neck from behind. Standing clumsily, he stumbled backwards until he crashed into the stone wall, and rammed back several times.

Yuffie sprang off, most affronted. "That was _mean, _Aury," she whined, rubbing her back vigorously. "What'd you do that for?"

He narrowed his one good eye at her until he got sick of doing it and turned back to his paperwork. "I'm busy, Yuffie."

"So-o-o-o-o-o?"

"So I don't care what you have to say."

And violet eyes glinted darkly in their depths. "Even though I'm your mistress and I have long-range weapons even though you only have one piddly giant sword?"

"Exactly."

"Bastard."

"Exactly."

Yuffie sighed, crossing her arms. "Well, then, I won't read it to you." She said suddenly, fishing out the envelope from the almost safe position within her beltpurse where she'd stocked it in order to attack her advisor properly. "You can just read it!"

One eyebrow went up, and he took up the crinkled envelope, and removed its contents. Yuffie watched him out of the corner of her eye, pretending she wasn't.

There was silence for a few moments. Then Auron smiled. And it was a very scary smile indeed. "This is… good."

The great ninja Yuffie cackled. "Yuh-huh!"

"And one thousand million munny?"

"Yuh-huh!"

"One thousand million munny from an anonymous source to kill the President's son…"

"Yup!"

"…Nice."

"I know." The ninja leaned forward suddenly, in a stroke of inspiration. "Hey, Auron, got a statfile on this guy?"

There went the eyebrow again. The girl watched its progress with fascination, barely registering the crimson-robed man's words. "–eon Leonhart."

"_Whut?_"

"One 'Leon Leonhart'." The eyebrow went up and down like a seesaw a few times. "You wanted to know about the President's son."

Yuffie laughed. "What a loser. The President named him that?"

"…his real first name is confidential…"

"–which means we have access to it, right?" Yuffie practically shone, and Auron smirked.

"Right."

And so, a very merry few hours were spent during which Yuffie gave inane suggestions as to what the guy's name could be and Auron wracked his brain for every possible combination and password he could think of to get into the top-secret government files.

It was, unfortunately, embarrassingly and most unusually for the heroine of the story and indeed any such story and her current sidekick, a complete and utter failure.

Yuffie and Auron both pouted.

"…Oh well." Yuffie said at last. "Got a picture of 'im?"

Auron nodded at that, and pulled out a newspaper that was sitting just beneath his desk. Yuffie chose to ignore the implication that one of her most trusted staff was relaxing on the job, and instead leaned on his shoulder as he flipped through until he found a half-page coloured photograph. The ninja bent forward for a closer look.

"…_Hel-lo,_" she breathed quietly. "I'd tap that."

The caption read: '_President Laguna Loire speaks at the dais. Behind; Leon Leonhart, son of the President, and Demyx Iglesias, a member of the Secretariat headed by Commander Leonhart._'

"And that's his dad?" She mumbled, half to herself as she surveyed father and son. "Hell, I'd tap his daddy too. And the assistant, the guy from the Secretariat too. Is it just me, or are they all seriously hot?"

Auron snapped the paper shut, a frown creasing those incredibly expressive and interesting eyebrows. "Foo'."

**-x-x-x-**

There was a note sitting on his desk, he noticed, and decided to open it as it appeared nothing like the various notes he was usually given.

It had a black border, jagged and curled a little as though burnt, and written in red ink (blood, his mind thought, snorting a little), were these words:

**SQUALL LEONHART  
**_…I am out to suck your blooood! _

Haha, no, just kidding. I am, however, planning on killing you.

WATCH IT. Your death will be coming for you shortly. Be sure to greet it with chocolate cookies and punch, okaaaay?

The note was completed with a half-stick figure, half chibi-face-thing waving cheekily at him from the bottom right corner of the page.

His left eyebrow twitched.

And twitched again.

"…Aerith?"

A head popped over the side of the small dividing wall in the office. "Yes, sir?" An altogether too cheery voice chirped at him.

"…What the fuck is this?"

Straightening her black-rimmed glasses, the pink-clad secretary walked briskly around the wall and took the document, scanning it quickly with lively green eyes. When she was finished, she pursed her lips, a light smile in place. "Uh, it appears to be a death threat, sir."

"…Okay. Just wanted to get that straightened out." He took it back and slowly folded it, placing it in his pocket with a ponderous expression, then seating himself.

Aerith Gainsborough, Secretary to Commander Leonhart, giggled, clasped her hands behind her back and began traipsing – a very odd thing to do in an office, fo' sho', but there you have it – began traipsing away, when she spun suddenly, long brunette braid swinging. "Sounds like interesting times before us, Squall," she sang out, bursting into giggles.

"…It's Leon." The dark-haired man lifted disapproving storm-eyes to her face, obviously wondering at how such a sweet, demure young woman had turned out like this, then went back to his paper. "Whatever."

A fading giggle floated back to answer him, and probably haunt his dreams for the next few nights.

In a dark, dark corner, above a cabinet within this very same office, Abu breathed a sigh of relief at a job well done and scampered off, glad to have finished the final task his mistress-no-more had told him to do. With this one, he was free, and he rubbed at his little wrist… paw… things, before escaping silently into the night.

**-x-x-x-**

"Rightio, Aury, I'm off!" The ninja declared cheerily, waving back at the castle and turning to skip off to her Gummi Ship.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Oh… dang. Hi, Cid!"

Cid grimaced around a straw at her. "Plannin' on leavin' so soon?" Asked the military airforce commander, Cid Highwind. Yuffie cringed as he continued. "Or did you forget that one clause of the letter there –" he nodded to the envelope she still carried "–the one that says you must take a squadron of your best in order to complete this mission and earn th' reward?"

More cringing. "But, _Cid, _you _know _I don't _work _with other _people –_"

"I know, and don't care."

Yuffie curled up in a ball on the ground, looking piteous, and started rocking back and forth. "I don' wanna, don' wanna, don' wanna, don' wanna…"

Cid Highwind's lip curled. "Get up."

She sprang up in a second, beaming. "Okay!"

Unfortunately for our dear ninja here, the blond caught her by the scruff of the neck before she could zip away to safety.

"But _Cid –_"

"Been through this. Now. Here's your new squad."

**-x-x-x-

* * *

**

I think I'll leave it there. It amuses me so far. The squad consists of ten people, not including Yuffie. Go on, guess who they'll be… xD Kyah ha, I think I'll have to put more of 'Aury' in in the future… and a bit more on Cid, too. Poor Leon, dealing with one miss Aerith… the other people he works with are worse.

Well, I should head off now, go get some lunch and get stuck back into my homework. So many assignments and stuff when you're starting your final year… dammit. So, next installment should be up pretty soon, especially if I get a nice response to this chapter. This is on x-hail.ee because it **will **have yaoi currents running all the way through it. A fic of mine without yaoi nowadays? Please. What were you on, thinking that was possible? But I'm thinking, maybe a squffie for this as the main pairing. Uh… enjoy!!

**Tally. **


	2. Chaos Reigns

_I'm writing this letter -- and wishing you well; Mama, we all go to hell  
My Chemical Romance, 'Mama'_

**Summary:** Yuffie meets the Ten Fighting Dwarves, as she will soon begin calling them; Leon gets a headache at a meeting of the Secretariat; and Yuffie proves to Peter that clapping your hands really can kill fairies.

* * *

**x---. ****The Red Letter.**

**Chapter 2: Chaos Reigns**

Yuffie Kisaragi, The Greatest Ninja In The World – Ever!™, was brought to an abrupt halt by the iron fist still clamped about her nape.

Slowly, she surveyed the squadron of ten men arrayed before her.

Slowly, she twisted her neck into a seemingly impossible position in order to see the craggy face of her airforce commander.

Slowly, the girl spake.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

The blond spat the chewed-up piece of straw out of his mouth, spraying spittle in her face and smirking wickedly. "Nope. Meet the troops, boss."

"You fucking bitch."

"Ain't that the truth." He raised her a few centimeters off the ground and dropped her, obviously for only the meager satisfaction of seeing her fall. She retaliated in like spirit, with a swift kick to both shins.

"I hate you." She said with measured calmness, and turned to face the squad again, dusting her hands.

Ten brutally attractive men stood before her, in varied stages of attentiveness. To the far right, a very tall, very imposing, very pretty man with long silver hair stood at ease, a sword that seemed to hint at compensation for something smaller resting easily in his strong black-gloved grip. Beside him, a beautiful man with a long coat, cowboy hat and chaps spun an even more beautiful pistol on his finger as he glanced around the courtyard.

She narrowed her eyes at the next one, wondering why such an _old_ man with such an _unusual_ hairstyle had been permitted into the force even if he _was _very buff and even if he _did _have very nice… uh, orange eyes; however, the young ninja's attention was quickly snagged by the next two – a pair of nearly identical redheads, even down to the twin scars adorning their cheeks, one in a black trenchcoat and one in a casual suit, chatting animatedly. Twins. "This will be fun…" she murmured to herself, rubbing her hands together in a totally unconscious gesture of malign intentions.

The next youth, only slightly older than herself, looked as though he was the younger brother of the first, and with an attitude to match. He licked his upper lip suggestively when Yuffie looked him over, seeming only slightly put out when she gave him an equally suggestive one-finger salute in return. Yuffie glanced behind her at Cid – currently cursing the steadily swelling angry red lumps on his hairy shins – then moved on to the next two.

All the girlishness she hadn't thought she had possessed came back at the sight of the next two – and, when she sneaked a look further down, even at the last duo as well. Three blonds all stood side by side with one brunet at the very end, and they resembled the boy bands the girl had refused to listen to in her youth but now – like all supposedly non-teenies really do – absolutely adored with an almost insanely fervent type of worship. Muffling the spurts of laughter that came unbidden to her throat at the mere sight of the very cute boys, she passed over the second in line with barely a glance except to blink at how anybody could look so dopey, and instead spent a good five minutes attempting to decipher exactly what the difference was in eye colour between the last two.

Gradually, it came to her attention that her walkie-talkie (yes, a walkie-talkie, and one Yuffie was very proud of. All the cool kids have one) was crackling and spitting out random snatches of words. With an irritated glance at the third silver-haired youth who was clearly trying to imagine what was under her mini-shorts, she yanked it out of her beltpouch and pressed buttons randomly until the annoying interference stopped, then held it up to her mouth. "'Ello?"

"_Get on with it_." Was the curt reply.

"Aury? What d'you want? How do you know what I'm doing?"

There came a sigh, not quite masked by the overall dodginess of the awkward way of communicating. _"I'm watching you from the window, Yuffie_," he told his young mistress tiredly.

"Oh, really? Cool!" Instantly, the ninja spun and started waving back at the castle, hopping up and down to be seen better.

Behind her, the young silverhead and the dopey-looking blond watched with clear expressions of interest, and the two redheads snorted in rather eye-catching disdainful fashion.

A distorted sigh came through the walkie-talkie once again; Auron was preparing for another long series of negotiations and not-so-witty banter.

**-x-x-x-**

Less than two hours later, Yuffie snapped the aerial down into the thick black handpiece, with rather a satisfying _phwekt _sort of sound. Her new squad had long since decided to seat themselves in various positions about the yard, a yellow-sanded affair modelled after the likes of the Coliseum. A few had settled back to sleep; however, most were involved in some card game over beneath the giant statue in memory of Godo Kisaragi. It appeared that the pretty cowboy with the long auburn hair was winning, judging by the identical affronted looks on the two redheads' faces.

Being Yuffie, a woman accustomed to laughter and obedience in equal measures, the ninja stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled for their attention.

"What?" Said the blond she'd all but ignored in her eagerness to scope out the younger two cuties, raising one wonderfully descriptive eyebrow. Damn, but eyebrows had to be Yuffie's favourite part of the face. A wolf's head earring glinted in the sunlight.

She grinned at him, looking him up and down quickly. "You guys want to stand back in that order you were in before?" She asked.

The young man inclined his head and unfolded his arms; in a few minutes they were assembled again.

"O-kay!" The short woman shouted, puffing herself up to her full size. Unfortunately, this was not much, so she was glad to still be standing on the stairs.

The ten men watched her in varying degrees of interest. She observed them a little more keenly than, say, the distracted small brunet was doing, what with the butterfly hovering about his nose and all – after all, a ninja has to be on her impressively cool guard at all times.

For a long moment, she stared at that little butterfly too. It was pretty. All blue with pink spots and sparkly…

"…I find it more than slightly amusing that you are all arrayed in order of height." She informed them frankly, with a most unprofessional little giggle.

The dopey-looking blond stared up at her, a small sliver of drool collecting at the corner of his open mouth.

Attempting to ignore the disconcertingly hypnotic sight – when would the saliva fall? When? – she continued. They appeared to be disinterested in her, so she decided to make things brief.

"So. Y'all know that I am now your boss, correct?"

Nine nods and a blank stare.

"Good. So, when I, the Greatest Ninja In This World Ever – that's a registered trademark, by the way – when I summon you, what do you do? You _charge!_" Yuffie cried exultantly.

The two redheads bit their lips, and both blonds' eyebrows shot up.

"Isn't that right, people?" Yuffie glared at the group before her.

"…Right."

Well, it wasn't particularly enthusiastic, nor was it in time, but it would do. For now. After all, it was only their first day on the job, no matter how professional they may have been before this auspicious occasion.

She made up her mind to overlook the matter for now, and work at it a little more later.

"So."

Ten pairs of eyes stared at her expectantly.

"_**Charrrge!**_"

**-x-x-x-**

Cid wept as his darling Sierra – the latest model, the one he'd spent many a long hour modifying and cleaning and petting obsessively – soared into the sky, in the debatably capable hands of one Kisaragi, Yuffie. His shinsplints were but a flesh wound, but the loss of his beautiful ship tore and rend at his soul with all the dark poignancy of an emo-punk-pop-indie song about death and love.

**-x-x-x-**

_Clang_.

Cloud blinked. The cabin, the one that had seemed so very spacious right at the beginning, now seemed overly crowded with ten men in it.

Cloud was impassive. However, Cloud was also claustrophobic, and was beginning to feel the effects even sooner than usual with the oddly personal touch of a hand on his lower nether regions.

He glared over his shoulders at the tall silver-haired man. It was all his fault he was being felt up. Of course, it was probably him doing the groping, but that still made it his fault.

Reno snickered at the scene from afar – two point three two metres away, to be precise, and nudged his twin in the ribs. Axel twisted around the very nice, very lithe body of that cocky-looking silver-haired kid to see, and smirked back at his brother, but his eyes very quickly found the fact of the pouty blond, the one who had done nothing but look sulky and/or angry since they had all assembled for the little girl.

Ansem observed this with quietly malicious amusement, his thoughts filled with darkness and the like. With his arms crossed, he thought he looked quite a bit like an evil overlord, and thus he was content.

…It was a motley little group that was being transported by their new mistress. The one who had just decided that another trip to Neverland would probably be beneficial before she got to know her new underlings too well.

_Clang._

The overhead screeching of the fan combined with the banging of one loose part or another – Cid's renovations weren't quite finished – served to make several people very, very twitchy indeed.

**-x-x-x-**

Somewhere else, in a round room with very dark corners – a fact that stands even as does the fact that round rooms do not, in fact, have any corners – sat a table. One could call it the Round Table, for indeed it was round. It was also very large, as befits such a legendary artifact as the Round Table. Unfortunately, those seated around it, while being for the most part very noble-of-appearance and imposing figures, were not knights. Nor was their leader (although this topic is also subject to discussion, seeing as even a famous Round Table does not have a head, thus there should be no person taking the 'lead' position) a king. Perhaps the motley group could even be likened to a wiccan group; they numbered thirteen, and some of the old men of the circle were known to refer to themselves haughtily as 'Organisation XIII'. Ridiculous, really. There were also four young and beautiful women among them, paragons of their kind in terms of almost everything – ability, attractiveness, conniving ways and breast size (in one noteworthy case) notwithstanding. Nevertheless, these people persevered in their heroic endeavours like civilized human beings; a modern version of the tales of ye olde.

"We do _not _need a fucking psychological examination to prove we are fit to bear arms!" Miss Lockheart, treasurer and ardent feminist, screamed.

"_Tifa_!" Commander Leonhart roared, smacking his palm on the table. It hurt, and his throat felt dry afterwards.

"Sorry, sir!" She shouted back at him, rather cheerily, if truth must be told. "But these li'l muthafuc–"

"_**Tifa**_!" Commander Leonhart roared once more, albeit rather hoarsely, this time simply rising instead of hitting the blameless table surface.

"Mo'fos, I meant, sir, mo'fos! If these mo'fos didn't have the outright _audacity_ to suggest that we need to be subject to scientific examinations by a fuckin' _creepy pervert _like that Vexen guy –"

"Hmph." Vexen sniffed disdainfully, clearly not impressed.

"–see, how the hell is that _not creepy? Look_ at him! Guy probably collects girls' panties or something –"

"That was Jafar!" Xehanort barked, attempting to stand in a rather wobbly fashion. "I would rather you didn't accuse my men in such a, a –"

"–shut _up, _you inebriated old bastard, and lemme finish!"

Commander Leonhart slumped forward on his desk, massaging his temples with his thumbs. "Order?" He murmured tiredly, not looking at Aerith on his left.

The girl nodded once, primly, then rose to her feet. How someone so garishly decorated in pink and flowers managed to go unnoticed by the rest of the Secretariat, especially in such a dark room, Leonhart could not be sure, but somehow – like always – it came as a shock to the rest of the crowd when a bellow rose above their babble.

"**OOOOOOOOORDERRRRRRRR**!!" Shouted the small woman, effectively stunning the left half of the table. She turned and performed much the same service to the other side, clutching a clipboard to her breast: "**WILL YOU KIIIIIIIINDLY SIT DOWWWWWWWWN**!!"

A second later, and she was the only one left standing. With a satisfied smile, she nodded once to the group as though they were but unruly children, and seated herself once again.

Leon sighed to himself, and slowly got to his feet. He felt sick, in an 'I-have-a-fuckin'-headache-and-want-to-die' kind of fashion. He glanced over his shoulder, an unremarkable habit except for the fact that there was nothing there and never would be – some aspects of the room seemed to strangely disappear into nothingness, and that area was one of them, in all its purple-misty glory – and turned to face his fellow Secretariat members. "I got a death threat the other day – last night, to be exact," he began.

Lexaeus' face cracked into a hugely craggy grin, and Saix beside him applauded politely. "You're growing up," Xigbar told him without so much as a smile gracing his stern-but-generally-mischievous visage.

Leon struggled to prevent any emotion from reaching his features, and felt with a hint of satisfaction that he had maybe succeeded when the rest of the Secretariat sat and waited patiently for the rest of the address. He managed to smother that tiny nagging bit of distress that no one seemed to care that his _bloody life was in danger_, but oh well. Couldn't have everything.

"As I said," he continued, "I received a death threat the other day, on my desk."

"Of course it was on the bloody desk," muttered Marluxia to himself, somehow managing to make the whole thing appear silky even while he inspected his nails. "Where else would it be? Nincompoop."

Out of sheer good grace and admirable self control, Commander Leonhart managed not to throw his heavy gold-plated nameplate at the man. "Yes. A death threat." He said, abruptly. "I wish to know sent it."

"And how the hell are we supposed to do that?" Exploded the drunkenly loud Xehanort, lurching to his unsteady feet. "Search the place for the friggin' culprit?"

A babble swiftly arose from this outburst, and Leon massaged his temples for the umpteenth time that meeting. He briefly considered resigning, but quickly changed that track of thought to suicide when Tifa joined in the hearty debate.

Naminé, a small blonde woman who had remained silent until now, cleared her throat delicately. He glanced at her. "Did it have a name on it?" She asked.

The room instantly quieted expectantly. "Yes." Leon said, aware of how foolish Xehanort must have been feeling at the moment. Probably not quite so stupid as he himself was feeling for not noting this important fact himself.

Naminé smiled a tiny smile at him, and went back to her quiet sketching. Inner Leon made a face at her. Outer Leon continued. "It was –"

The pause was not for any sort of suspenseful effect. It was simply that he was trying to remember if the note really had been signed or not.

"–Yuffie Kisaragi." Aerith informed the room. "It was scrawled on the back of the note." She held the paper up as evidence, something Leon found more than mildly disconcerting as he had until that moment believed the paper to be in his possession, and looked up at him, a small smile hovering about her lips. _You owe me big time for this, loser. _Her merry green gaze said.

He held her eyes a while longer – _I know, bitch, I know that already _– and turned his attention back to the meeting. Eleven pairs of eyes watched their silent exchange with interest and amusement, if not complete understanding of what exact words had taken place.

Clearing his throat, Leon said, "The floor is now open to discussion as to how to counter this terrorist attack – ah, death threat – okay. Terrorist threat." One slim eyebrow went up.

The chaos began. Again. Leonhart buried his head in his arms.

**-x-x-x-**

"Grumpy."

A grunt answered in a non-committal way to the insulting new title.

"Sleazy."

A forced "…Yeah," could be heard.

"Sneezy."

The hackles of the buff orange-eyed man went up and a fearsome growl emitted from his throat. Yuffie giggled. "Good boy," she told him., looking back down at the clipboard she had acquired specifically for this use. "Pyro and Cheeky?" She asked.

"Nn." Came the twin dejected responses.

"Sleepy."

No sound came from the throat of the silver-haired youth, frozen in outrage, his mouth working frantically. Yuffie ticked him off anyway.

"Bashful."

The guy who answered to Cloud inclined his head, expressionless.

"Dopey?"

The drool had nearly begun to drip. Yuffie marked a big fat tick beside his name.

"Doc and Happy."

The last two replied with unhappy yeses, the brunet scrubbing at his eyes and looking anything like the latter name as he answered.

Yuffie flipped a page over on the clipboard, and then flipped it back again. "That's it." She told the crew brightly. "You shall henceforth call me Yuffie the Ninja a.k.a Snow White, Greatest Ever In The World."

A broken sob issued from the tall cowboy.

"Now, everybody, remember to stay right here, okay? Ignore those little lights – they're probably fireflies or fairies – and don't let the fire go out, but don't burn yourself out. Bashful, don't let Dopey near the fire. I fear for his safety." She said sternly.

Another impassive nod.

Yuffie glanced over them, satisfied, and disappeared with a whoop into the lush green forest on the island of Neverland.

The small ragged line of males slowly moved to the fire. Only one expression registered anything more than shock now that their insane new mistress had left temporarily.

Dopey drooled a bit more.

**-x-x-x-**

Peter raised an eyebrow at her. "It's not 'every time you clap your hands a fairy dies'," he told her, arms crossed and pointy green toes directed outward. He'd found the girl rummaging in the now-empty chests below deck on Hook's abandoned ship. The sly girl had scored herself several packs of ether, and he envied her.

Yuffie gave a delicate sneer, inwardly priding herself on the use of such an oxymoron. "Wanna bet?" She asked wickedly.

The other red eyebrow shot up. Dang, but this boy's eyebrows were almost as interesting to watch as Auron's were.

Almost, she reminded herself as he spoke. "Show me." He said.

Yuffie cackled and brought her hands together, rubbing them with glee. "Out of curiosity," she asked, packing her new supplies into her backpack before standing, "what does clapping your hands do for fairies anyway, Redhead?"

Peter Pan shrugged. "Revives them," he replied, a glimmer of amusement in his voice. "To kill them, you're supposed to say 'I don't believe in fairies'." He winced as a tiny keening screech filled the air and clapped hurriedly. A tiny light winked brightly, buzzed angrily near his face for a second and sped away.

The Greatest Ninja Ever laughed. "Music to my ears. Lead the way, O' Peter Panda." She lightly tested the wooden planks with her toes and sprang nimbly into the air.

And so Peter Pan led the way, and the air was filled with the clamour of dying screams as Yuffie repeated her new favourite mantra over and over again.

**-x-x-x-**

Peter Pan blinked at the dispirited and gloomy atmosphere about the guys Yuffie had dumped where she had landed Sierra. "What are we doing here?" He asked slowly. "And what are they doing here?"

Shrug. "Dunno." She said. "You lead the way, O' Peter Panda. Remember?"

The boy cursed silently to himself.

"Grow up, Redhead."

"_No_!"

She laughed at his horrified expression, stood on a log, and waited.

The rest of the men watched with bated breath and mild curiosity.

Suddenly, the small girl clapped her hands together sharply above her head. There was the sound of a squish. There was the sound of a fading buzz. And there was the sound of bones cracking.

Then there was silence.

Yuffie smirked triumphantly. "Told you you could kill 'em by clapping." She said to the openly trembling Peter.

* * *

So, that's the end of the second chapter. Most of it is pretty much classified as what-the-fuck-ery. This chapter feels a little disjointed, I suspect, but don't worry – next chapter, Yuffie, Axel, Reno and Ansem will explore the land of Dragons. Abu knows where Leon is, but Yuffie stupidly neglected to work it out herself, so she's gone looking for him. And I tried to submit an edited chapter to replace the first chapter of this - there are several cringe-worthy mistakes, and likely more in this chapter that I haven't picked up on yet - but the new chapter hasn't shown up yet. Ahh, well. Enjoy this next chapter. 

Review? 

**--------Tally.**


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